Best Acceding Poems
When everything starts going awry
No qualms in acceding to a special mortal, no matter how grouchy
All gospels on controlling sentiments go down the drain
Blessed and cursed simultaneously like an ounce of hydration in a desert of sand
Seemingly the only logical thing
Belies all the comments on being just a fling
No matter how much bereavement it brings
It is the least ransom one can afford in love from which sightseers cringe
Getting enraptured by it
Even on loosing precious moments one feels most fit
Hope sapped by the fact
As it doesn't seem right
Still unable to curb
Though one tries with might
Only consolation in prenominal testament
That the chosen one is in sight
Prays for divergence from feeling atrabilious
And to channelise energy for what is more precious
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY: LXXVIII
for Suzanne DELANEY, in appreciation
(Prelude: CAN THE WRONG MAN BE RIGHT ? ABSOLUTELY !
If only he were NOT guilty of the self-same crime !
For instance, here in Europe, acceding to « nationality»
status can be quite ludicrously irrational: those migrants
even "totally ignorant" of the host country’s culture
and official tongue obtain their "citizenship papers »
sooner or later, while clinging desperately to their
own culture and country to the exclusion of their hosts’- some more fortunatethough enjoy « dual nationality » and therefore DUAL rights to LOYALTY ! And talk tough once they take over responsibile positions in society. And the
ones on whom the latter prey most of all are precisely
those « other» less fortunate migrants at their mercy !)
IF ever I had a country, a country NOT « wholly" put together by
either IMMIGRANTS or REFUGEES, you see, but by conquering
IMPERIAL ENSLAVERS on the backs of blacks and
on those fleeing from hunger, from religious
intolerance as "indentured-labourers », mainly, you’ll agree
WHERE the indigene was routed and rounded up into
RESERVES through superior "fire-power" by the
COLONIAL and local ARISTOCRACY
AND where TAXES and LEVIES imposed by the « Foreign Power »
drove the locally-born MASTER to revolt against the MOTHER
COUNTRY
Until the whole CONTINENT united « nation » after « nation »
to become the foremost mid-twentieth century « COLONIAL »
SAVIOUR of the WORLD country
Only to find its internal structure and economic power usurped
by other NON-NATION constituting ethnies
AND one-by-one take over from the original WASP founding PATER
FAMILIAS confederacy
Yes, then, I’d keep the NEW-COMER from wagging his/her tongue or
shooting his/her mouth tout azimuth - despite the legislative mandate -
as though he/she were the backbone of the nation or from attempting to
take over my « dear » country as if it were their « god-given » patrimony
Even if I never ever had no country stuck together with spit and elbow-grease to look like a pyrotechnically-powere Bollywoodian jamboree
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, July 22, 2019
Heaven’s above, Hell’s below,
Purgatory’s in the middle,
Guess what’s on the menu,
Our souls! To solve my riddle.
Players in the mix together,
Yes actors and entire cast,
Props and stars of their show,
Entertaining up to the last.
Gods and demons, decide
our comeuppance and fate,
Tomorrow’s judgement day,
Our life, is up for debate,
Watching over our theatrics,
Deliberating all mankind,
If a hung jury, will cast us back,
into the nether, nowhere time.
Born a Roman Catholic, was
indoctrinated this spiel, in school,
Beaten and punished harshly,
if not acceding to their rules.
That’s why I’m sceptical, about
organised religion, and it’s truth,
Why use corporal punishment,
unless dishing out bad fruit.
You’ll find cynical sentiment,
in some, if not many of my poems,
I’m not trying to influence,
That’s for you, and you alone.
I apologize to others, if offended,
I’m not trying, to tempt blind faith,
My message is, don’t be duped,
by con-artists, before it’s all too late.
Question everything, without exception,
What’s the harm, if nothing’s to hide,
Meet your creators, gaze upon them,
Project ones honesty, onto Gods eyes.
Now find I’m stuck in the middle,
Agnostic, my penchant is science,
How else, could I have turned out,
Chose my own path over forced compliance.
By
David Kavanagh.
Volition, orientation familiarization aahing
and oohing within restrictive paradigm molding
inviolable honorable gentility -
flagrantly, desirously, clearly boyz abandoning
willfully skirting, panting (heavily)
forfeiting abominably, (no Joe King) abiding
chomping at bit, damning delineated, or obscure
parameters, between one acceding
Earthlinked selfish living
psychosexual pining human bing,
and another ardently avowedly ambitious
altruistic agent provocateur (lol)
at first blush hinting Moulin Rouge adulation
under dim (witted) lighting accenting
individual randy salient
traits savoring tête-à-tête
tasty hors d'oeuvres accentuating
nuances highlighting flirtatious countenance
initially unconditionally stubbornly accepting
dire hormonal straits
as prickly fledgling acquaintanceship
quivers, negotiates, kickstarts abolishing
inchoate biochemical protracted coupling
conveniently interpreting accessing
breeching, catapulting Dickensian estuary,
non verbal communication nsync abridging
painstakingly erecting complex edifice
suavely, urbanely, wittily accessorising
tried and truevalue tricks acclaiming
debonair heroic manliness princely
qualities dutifully dominate directing
demure damsel in distress absconding
convincing, foreplaying, jimmying,
rollicking readily acclimatizing
challenges thrust up gracefully parlaying
most savvy serious similarly sophisticated
totally tubular testosterone tactics
versatile repartee accomplishing
dynamics cultivating atavistic romantic ballet
on duh poe whit tick abutting
metaphorical foot accoutering
trappings adorned since mythological
Adam and Eve accrediting
latter, sans virile unavoidable temptation
savoir faire verboten fruit, accelerating
action whereby unsuspecting, slithering,
lurking serpent teen accounting
rattle unheard by apse cent church fathers
subsequently excoriating, condemning, accusing,
nonetheless indomitable transcendence achieving
pinnacle of prostrate poignancy
inexpressible ecstasy acquiescing
nonpareil acquisition adulation activating
ascendence assaying administering
amorousness activating. aching.
Great are the follies of haughty man through the times ,
Imposing his will on fellows, changing the climes,
Playing god for some silver , acceding to greed.
Always striving for more , wanting more than his need,
Sowing seeds of dissension , destroying his breed,
Meddling with nature , man destroys nature and earth.
He's restructured the genes, to mutants given birth,
His junk - food is unhealthy , adds weight to his girth;
The surgeons mint money with their nips and their tucks.
The atom's been tamed , corporations make big bucks,
The innocent public just ran out of their lucks;
Politics and religion determine one's fate.
I'm not against progress , but am sorry to state,
Life's more than money or power , pleasures to sate;
Love and compassion to one and all is what counts.
Drink of the wisdom in Good Books, drink from their founts,
Make good use of progress, scale good Karma's mounts;
Life's purpose is not sowing destruction's seed.
Playing god for some silver , acceding to greed,
Meddling with nature , man destroys nature and earth,
The surgeons mint money with their nips and their tucks,
Politics and religion determine one's fate,
Love and compassion to one and all is what counts,
Life's purpose is not sowing destruction's seed.
~07 Jul 2016~
12 syllables per line checked via www.how manysyllables.com
The sky on days become too full
And gravity will start to pull
And capture every bubble frame
While popping corks off rich champagne
The trees will fool and start to dance
And still the time on every branch
With baron shrine and fruits to bare
The wind that strokes and blows through hair
On top-down journeys come to pause
And settle howls with loud applause
Before acceding way too fast
They leave a trail that sprouts from past
Of flitter flatters in delight
And pitter patters out of sight
Extending dreams as arms beseech
To touch the always out of reach
Parting ways, they kiss goodnight
Before the lips close way too tight
The watermarks miraged for miles
With poppy sighs and angel smiles
A substance of the rarest rare
The healing voice of hearts that care
The silver clouds left in its wake
Remain untouched for heaven’s sake
It can’t be met from anywhere
But viewed to share the secret stare
and ponder why it’s so reborn
Transparent in its naked form
It paints the sky with gold perhaps
For all to drink from natures tap
The air contains the future’s plot
Seen at times, at others not
It’s written in the stars you see
Eclipsed by mind and soul-ar key
Failure amidst surrounds of air
That doesn’t mean love isn’t there
Acceding blight, civilization despair.
Entwining fallacy, germinating history.
Ideology jaded, kill-joy labored.
Martyr naught.
Obstinate paladin, quick rumbling spreads,
tense unattainable vicious warning.
Xenophobia yap zipped.
Trust not, know not,
Love not, show not,
In the midst of such vague
expressions, lies the life,
of the pessimistic cynic,
or rather the temperament
born from his solitude,
a solitude which remains fortified,
Hope not, see not,
Free not, be not,
are the unwritten rules
of his constant confinement,
Faithless and motionless
due to comfortable surroundings,
He sees the world through logical,
eyes from the darkest spectrum,
As light is merely the wrapping
paper over the ugliest truth,
Illuminated paint covering walls
that shall forever remain the same
Yet the appeal is incredibly seductive,
The brighter allure of hope keeps light desirable
Whereas his view has no seduction,
merely the fact of being fact,
Thus he embraces not corruption,
nor does he take pride in eradicating
any sheltered scent of optimism,
For he too would enjoy a moment
of essential ignorant indulgence,
if only to know the touch of acceding,
Yet he chooses not to, despite his
opinions condemned to being despised,
He sleeps in his only comforting reward,
the serene knowledge that he helps
truth be seen, known, and heard...
"If we allow a deranged mind to control the course of human destiny,
then we become executioners in the annihilation of human dignity"
-by author-
Dejection
Collective yearning inconsolably questing tranquility
races toward stratosphere
Blinding flashes sculpted shadows of lifeless entities
on melted walls everywhere
Mind focused on the obscure contours of ominous rain clouds
solemnly disengages
Upon nameless faces dire consequences unexpectedly surface
on the distinct edges
Eyes gazing overhead apprehensively acceding to portended
unendurable emotions
Fears and the tears of dejection watched the sun dissolve
beyond darkened horizons
\
***The unfathomable depth of despair after a nuclear war nightmare***
-by author-
Penned: 09/10/2014
Cabin 1939
Aboard Cruise Liner:
"Splendour of the Seas"
Mykonos, Greece
I numbly step aside,
acceding to her prior riight,
knowing full well
that she will smile again.
But I?
The others too,
must have their chance to mourn.
I see their tears and wonder why.
They were not there to hear
his first strong cry.
I clasp their hands
and listen to their words.
"God be with you."
"Time heals all wounds."
I hear the lie.
Resentment clogs my throat.
Can God command the blood to flow
through my still beating heart?
My stone cold heart,
can it but die?
They murmur their good-byes.
At last I am alone
to find my pathway back
to life and God,
without my son.
To try, to try.
For Paula's Feel the Feeling contest Won HM
The trolling of the iron bell
brought the pair together
in sickness and in health
through all kinds of weather
he a macho manly male
anticipating his marital right
she a timorous maiden frail
awaiting her wedding night
no more lingering at the church
or languishing left in the lurch
no more cake or champagne
someone left it out in the rain
and that which is to come
he acceding to her every plea
she submitting to his every wish
a happy couple for all the world to see